Solitude Is Overrated
by Words Fly
Summary: Everyone needs a moment alone to themselves, but sometimes what they need more is for someone to just be there.


**WF:** This is my first fic in the Band of Brothers fandom, so I hope it's okay! There's a mild description of a panic attack, but it's not very graphic.

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" _War's over."_

Those words seemed to echo in every man's mind, even as they continued to laugh and push at each other. After all the battles and the loss, it was finally over. The relief that Eugene felt was palpable; there was a pressure missing from his chest that helped his lungs to expand a little wider. He could breathe easier, but he still tensed like he was preparing to run every time he heard someone yell. Luz and Perconte were at the edge of the field, laughing about something Eugene couldn't hear, but Bull was standing nearby and shaking his head. Liebgott and Webster were standing toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose, but they hadn't come to blows yet. He could spot several other familiar faces, but something was missing. _Someone_ was missing.

As the sun fell down over Austria, blues giving way to ambers, Eugene started towards the lake. No one went out to the lake at night because there were better places for them to be, so it was the perfect place to enjoy some solitude. After so much time spent in dug-out holes with bodies all crammed together, the space was a luxury. He was almost to the water's edge when he caught sight of the curled up form siting on the grass, and he quieted his footsteps on instinct. Didn't want to startle whoever it was.

The thought of turning around crossed his mind. They're staying in a big enough, and safe enough, place that he can find some other corner of solitude. He'd just turned on his heel when the first sound caught his ears. Thought it might've been a hiccough at first, a small burst of sound. Until it happened again. A little louder this time and unmistakable. It's war, and men lose themselves during war. There ain't no shame in it, and Eugene knew that he should leave the man be. Then that sound came again, even more desperate this time, and his jaw clenched as he squeezed his eyes shut. There ain't no one screaming for a medic, but there's someone calling out for help just the same.

Eugene was barely six steps away when the man froze and curled in tighter on himself, and Eugene could see him furiously wiping at his face. It was the hair that gave him away in the end. Without saying a word, Eugene dropped to the ground and let his knee knock against the other man's. There was the quiet sound of tears being swallowed, a rough clicking from a dry throat, but Eugene could see the redness around his eyes without even looking at him full on. He didn't say anything though. Just let him work through it. The only thing was, Babe wasn't working through it. There was another quiet burst of sound, followed by another, and Eugene realized that Babe was breathing too quickly. Too harshly.

"Heffron?" At the sound of his surname, Babe let out a strangled sound and fisted his hands in his hair. Despite the faded sunlight, Eugene could tell that he was gripping hard enough to make his knuckles flush white. He was breathing so hard and fast that his upper body was shaking with it, and he was making some kind of low sound deep in his chest.

(It made Eugene think of the cat that the neighbor girl had brought home when he was nine; they'd both tried to keep it alive, but it'd been too cut up after some sort of fight. So they'd just comforted it until the end, and it'd made these horrible painful whimpers until it died.)

Eugene couldn't just keeping sitting there and listen to Babe make those sounds. The man sounded like he was dying, and Eugene'd had his fill of listening to dying men. It was dark and no one was around, so he rolled up onto his knees and moved so that he was kneeling in front of Babe. He closed his hands on those shaking shoulders, felt the trembling muscles under the thin shirt that Babe was wearing, and tried to shake him a little. Anything to make him stop pulling at his hair and looking at the ground. If anything, the shaking got worse as Eugene tried to hold him still.

"Dammit, Babe, you gotta snap outta this!" Several harsh shudders later, hands reached down to grip Eugene's wrists. Babe wasn't a very big guy, but the hold on his wrists was strong. Babe's fingers were shaking, but the rest of his body was slowly calming down. He was still breathing too fast. Too much longer of that and he'd pass out for sure.

"G-g-gene?" He scooted forward on his knees just a little more, knees pressed flush against Babe's crossed legs, and saw wet lashes surrounding dark eyes. Babe might have been looking at him, but he couldn't _see_ him. Babe was seeing right through him. Eugene tightened his hands on Babe's shoulders and pressed his thumbs against the edges of collarbones sticking out from Babe's thin shirt, and he leaned forward so that he could rest his forehead against Babe's. The breaths puffing out against his lips and chin were too fast, and Babe's skin was clammy.

"Come on now, Babe, just breathe with me." He grabbed one of Babe's hands, his left, and pressed it against the center of Eugene's own chest. Then he kept one hand on Babe's shoulder while pressing his other hand against the center of Babe's chest. "Slowly pull a breath in through your nose and hold it. Yeah, just like that. Hold it. Okay, now let it out through your mouth. Slowly. Don't push it. Let it happen."

Warm air drifted across his chin at a slow and steady rate, albeit a little shakily, but it was progress. Eugene walked Babe through several more breaths, until their hands and chests were moving at the same rhythm. Babe wasn't shaking anymore. The steadier his breathing became, the steadier he became. At some point, Eugene had started rubbing slow circles against the side of Babe's neck, to help soothe him. It seemed to be working. After a few dozen steady breaths, Babe laughed and the hot air rushed over Eugene's lips.

"You called me Babe again." Eugene slowly pulled away, so that his own sweaty hair wasn't mixing with Babe's, and saw a small smile twitching at the corner of the other man's lips. His eyes were still too dark and his face too pale, but he was making an effort. Trying to look normal. Trying to pull himself together.

"Yeah, well, don't get too used to it." One of Eugene's hands was in his lap now, but the other was still pressed against the center of Babe's chest. He could feel the slow breaths that the other man was taking, even and easy breaths, and he felt warm despite the small chill starting in the air.

"One day, I'll get ya to call me Babe in front of all the others. Show them that the Doc does know how to loosen up." Pulling away from Babe was harder than he thought it would be, and Eugene's hand felt too cold without some kind of heat pressing against his palm and fingers. The heat coming from his own upper body as he crossed his arms didn't compare.

"You keep thinking that, Heffron." Dark eyes rolled at the name, but Babe's barely-three smile stretched into something more real. Something more genuine. Then Babe was flowing to his feet and brushing off the back of his pants. His face was clear, like nothing had ever happened, but Eugene wouldn't soon forget the sounds Babe had made as he took time to himself to fall apart. Even if it was only for a few minutes.

"C'mon, Gene." A hand slapped against his shoulder and stayed there, and Eugene carefully rose off of his sore knees. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he liked that Babe called him Gene. Just like he'd never admit that he thought of Heffron as Babe, even if didn't say it out loud. The hand on his shoulder curled around the fabric there and started pulling, and Eugene followed along behind Babe. "Let's go see what the others are up to."

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 **Finis:** I wrote this in under two hours, while listening to really sad music, so I'm sorry if it's not that great. I might expand on it though if anyone thinks it has any potential, or any ideas for how it could be expanded.


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